One Good Scare
by AlarataraWitchIce
Summary: Our now blonde-haired heroine gets a surprise visit from the world's baddest villain. And what happens when the BSAA Halloween Party is crashed by a Nemesis? T for mild language, but nothing too serious, so don't worry.


**A/N: This is a one-shot. Jill/Wesker, a little late for Halloween, but I don't care. Anyway, enjoy my friends! **

**No mature content, and no language that is too strong. There's no f-word in this one. Then again, it isn't usually in my stories. **

**By the way, I have a poll on my profile, dealing with who is good and who is evil. I'd be really happy if you guys would check it out and vote for which RE person you are more like. **

**The choices are: Wesker, Chris, Claire, Excella, or none of the above. Don't vote in a review, but vote on my profile, please. I'd really appreciate it. **

**Have fun reading! ~M.M.**

Come let's tip-toe into the dark-

One good scare ought to do it!

You'll find our bite much worse then our bark!

One little scare ought to do you some good!

If you should find the daily grind-

A tad bit taxing on my mind-

To help unwind if so inclined,

I have a small suggestion!

That if you dare into my lair-

_You should prepare for quite a scare!_

But will you share in this nightmare,

Will be my only question.

If your hair lies lifeless and limp-

One good scare ought to do you are.

Come with me now-

_Don't be a wimp!_

One little scare ought to do you some good!

That is quite right-

I would delight in-

Taking flight into the night and-

Finally give you such a fright-

You know I surely would!

_One good scare ought to do you some good! _

~_Phineas and Ferb_, 'One Good Scare'

**One Good Scare**

**Part I**

I flopped down on the plushy couch and brushed my bangs out of my face. I looked at the blonde locks and sighed. It had been a few years since the defeat of Wesker and my hair still hadn't returned to normal.

Ever since that day, I'd checked and re-checked my roots every day, hoping to see brunette hairs growing instead of blonde.

I was starting to lose hope that my hair would ever become brown again; the blonde serving as a constant reminder of the viruses and the corporations. The war and the villains.

I shook my head and smiled when Chris came into the room.

"Hey, Jill." Chris said distractedly. He walked towards the front door while changing the song on his iPod.

Chris, unable to see where he was going, smacked straight into the doorframe.

I couldn't stop the giggle that escape from my lips. Chris was always so clumsy when he wasn't working. So easily distracted.

"Valentine," Chris growled, holding his forehead and glaring at me playfully. "You did that on purpose!"

"Yes, Chris," I said sarcastically, "I moved the doorframe at the last second just to piss you off."

"Jill…" Chris sighed and took his hand away from his forehead to check for blood. When there was none, he gave me a satisfied smile.

"Good morning to you, too, Chris." I grinned innocently.

"Yeah, yeah." Chris wandered into the kitchen and snagged a bottle of water from the fridge. "I'm going for my run. Think you can manage to be alone for a few hours?"

"Hours?" I raised an eyebrow. "It takes hours to go for a run?"

"No, but getting breakfast afterwards does," Chris said.

"Well, yeah. I'm fine here by myself." I murmured, standing up again and kissing Chris once on the cheek.

We'd been living in the same home together for the past two years. It wasn't anything serious; Chris was just helping me get over the events with Wesker. He was just helping me heal.

My therapist had instructed me to live with someone for a while. To help calm me when I had one of my…breakdowns.

"Alright then." Chris said, taking his water and keys with him when he walked out the door.

Today was my favorite holiday: Halloween.

I'd always loved Halloween; it was so fun and spooky. I'd especially loved Halloween as a kid.

My friends and I would walk the streets, pillow cases in hand, dressed like ghouls and devils and angels and fictional characters from Saturday morning cartoons. And at the end of the night, we'd all pass out on my living room floor in sugar-induced comas, satisfied with the success of the evening.

And then there were the parties.

All Halloween parties were on the day before, after, or of Halloween. I'd loved the electrical hum of energy in the air around Halloween.

I shook my head and walked in to the kitchen. The previous day, I'd gone to the pumpkin patch and picked out the best pumpkin I could find.

It was medium-sized, unlike the monster pumpkins I'd seen. Some of those things could get huge!

I took a huge carving knife from the kitchen drawer and cut the top of the pumpkin off. With a bit of effort, I pulled the pumpkin top from the pumpkin and then quickly put it back in.

Oops. Crap. I'd forgotten to lay down the paper. I promptly took yesterday's newspaper and laid it under the pumpkin and carving tools. Then I took a big mixing bowl from the cabinet and placed it beside the pumpkin.

I lifted the pumpkin top off again and cut the seeds and guts from it.

And this was the part I hated. The feeling of pumpkin guts, squishy and extremely cold, between my fingers, was enough to unnerve me. Briefly, I paused. I wasn't sure if this would bring on another break down, and I promised Chris I would be okay while he was on his run…

Oh, just stop being a wimp! I reached my hand in and instantly gasped. Way cold…

I decided not to think about it. As I was scooping out the pumpkin's innards, I was remembering what I'd read one time.

A man named Jack had tricked the Devil, tried to become immortal, and God wouldn't let him into Heaven. So he was sent to wander the earth with only a burning coal to light his way. He put the coal into a hollowed our turnip and people followed his lead to keep his spirit away. Immigrants from Ireland brought the turnips to the U.S, and we used pumpkins instead.

Easily, I sketched out my pumpkin's face and then carved it. It was a happy face, not a scary or ugly face like several Jack-O'lanterns past. It had a smile and four teeth on the top and bottom. It was nice. So much more pleasant than other pumpkins I'd carved.

I took one of the candles that I usually used in a blackout from the drawer and I put it in the pumpkin. Then I looked at the bowl of pumpkin guts I'd accumulated. I frowned.

What was I supposed to do with it…? I pursed my lips and picked up the bowl. The contents jiggled, much like orange, stringy jell-o.

Unintentionally, I caught sight of a pair of sunglasses. They were obviously Chris's sunglasses; I'd never wear anything that dark. They were black and tinted, and the lenses weren't too large. Yup. Definitely Chris's.

But why did I keep staring at them? Why did my eyes stay locked on those black pair of shades? Why?

The answer was so painfully obvious. Wesker.

That damn ring leader had always worn all black. Black boots, black jacket, black pants and shirt, black tie, and always, black sunglasses. Even at night.

The purpose of those glasses was to cover his catlike eyes. I'd never seen his eyes, but I'd heard that they were horrendous.

_Stop! Stop! Just stop it right now! _

Now was the time I was supposed to stop thinking about it. I was supposed to stop thinking about Wesker and pumpkins and viruses and everything. I was supposed to count backwards from one hundred and lay down for a few hours. I was supposed to shut myself down.

But…did I really want to? Did I really want to try and forget Wesker? Everything I'd felt and done?

If I did…then Wesker would be completely gone. He wouldn't just be physically gone. He would be erased from my memory and therefore wouldn't exist.

So…did I want to forget Albert Wesker?

…..No. I didn't.

A loud crash sounded from the entryway. The lights in the kitchen flickered out. My hand felt down to my hip, where my revolver was waiting.

God damn it! The lights in the hallway were off too!

It was a really stormy day, and the clouds made it so that it was dark even outside. So it was extremely dark inside.

I let my left hand brush the wall as I walked. My fingers encountered a light switch. I flicked it up and down, but the lights wouldn't come on. Shit. The circuit breaker. Someone had probably turned it off.

I wondered if it was just Chris, messing with my head, or if it was some robber trying to do a good job.

"Who's there?" I asked into the darkness. Even if it _was _a robber, I was going to give him or her a chance to leave without injury.

The dark shape at the end of the hallway started moving towards me.

"Freeze, or I'll shoot!" I aimed my gun at the figure. The shape didn't pause, and I squeezed the trigger.

As quickly as I had fired it, the figure moved out of the way of the bullet with ease. It became a black blur as I fired more and more, until I was out of ammo.

Then I realized the black figure had been moving towards me with every shot I fired. I pulled the trigger again, and realized the clip was empty. I didn't have another mag on me…shit.

The figure stepped into a small pool of light coming from the bottom of the shade on the window. First, I saw all black. Black boots, black pants, black belt, black coat, and black shirt. And then I saw pale white skin and dark sunglasses.

"No. No way." I shook my head back and forth, trying to dispel the image from my mind.

When I opened my eyes, the man was still standing there, nonchalantly looking around my apartment.

Somehow, through his sunglasses, the man caught my eyes.

Wesker grinned.

**Part II**

"Well, Miss Valentine. I would think you would be more happy to see me." Wesker's slight English accent reached my ears.

I'd stumbled backward, into the wall, and was slightly shaking. My trembling fingers still clutched the empty gun, holding tightly to the only weapon I had left.

I closed my eyes and turned my head away. _This can't be happening. No, no, no…_

Wesker was supposed to be dead. He'd been shot with two RPGs and dumped into a volcano. But then why was he here? Why was he torturing me?

_Please…just make him go away! _I screamed in my head. _For the love of God just make him go away! I'll do anything! _

Tears leaked from behind my closed eyelids.

"Now Miss Valentine," Wesker's voice scolded mockingly, "there is no need for tears. I am not here to harm you."

_Much_, I added in the silence.

"Yeah right." I stuttered.

"Miss Valentine, you don't believe me?" Wesker asked.

"Why would I have a reason to?"

The silence that stretched through the air was deafening. I didn't hear anything from Wesker, but I could tell he was either moving, or he was thinking about what he was going to respond with.

A cold hand on my face made me shriek and flinch away from it. And I flinched away from Wesker, only to be caught by Wesker's hand on my arm.

"Miss Valentine, why are you on edge? As I said before, I am not here to harm you or threaten you." Wesker's cool breath on my ear.

I was hyper aware of everything. Wesker's right hand stroking my cheek, his left arm wrapped around my waist, his hard abdomen pressed against mine.

"And as I said before, why would I have a reason to believe you?" I managed to choke out. I struggled to get away from Wesker, but his grip on me was too strong. At least, that's what I wanted to believe.

"Well, if I had wanted to kill you, I would've done it already." Wesker whispered next to my head.

I shuddered and tried to free myself again, to no avail.

Every attempt I made to get myself away from this man seemed to be in vain. I try to kill him, he comes back. I try to free myself, and I get even more stuck.

"Get away from me, you sick son of a-" I was cut off by a hand on my throat. Wesker's grip on me tightened.

"Do you really want to finish that sentence, Miss Valentine?" he was cutting off my airways. I wouldn't have been able to answer him if I had wanted to, which I really didn't.

And I sure as hell wanted to finish that sentence!

I needed air…my lungs burned.

I raised my knee as quickly as I could, and I found that Wesker was too focused on thinking. What he was thinking about, I did not care. All I cared about was that he was distracted for a while.

I felt my knee crack slightly as I rammed it into Wesker's stomach, but I didn't care about that, either. I coughed and breathed in as much air as I could before Wesker was able to regain his composure.

I'd hit him hard. Hard enough to crack my knee cap and make me wince in pain. Wesker's breath rushed out of his lungs and his eyes narrowed at me. I stood up and tried to run to my room.

Wesker was on me in a flash, grabbing my shoulders and yanking me backwards. I cried out as his nails dug into my skin through my shirt. Wesker spun me around and made me look at his eyes, which were now uncovered by his sunglasses.

I stared fearfully back at him. His dark red and yellow eyes glared back at me, stunning me into silence. I'd heard stories about Wesker's eyes. How they were that of a demon's. But I'd never seen them personally.

He was pure evil.

And for some odd reason, I couldn't look away. Wesker's gaze held my eyes easily. Suddenly, Wesker looked away. His eyes scanned my face. There was no cold smirk on his lips now. There was no hard impatience that would drive anyone to the brink of insanity.

There was, instead of all of that, a deep pain.

Yes. Deep inside the merciless Albert Wesker's eyes, I saw agony. I wondered vaguely why he was in pain. It couldn't be physical. Wesker was too tough for it to be anything physical. It had to be mental.

There was something wrong.

Wesker released my shoulders. He looked away, and his lips turned down in a scowl.

I couldn't tell if it was directed at me, or at something in my home, or at himself. It didn't matter.

I didn't get a chance to ask, because Wesker vanished.

**Part III **

I had put all the pictures back on their shelves. I had lit the candle I'd put in it earlier. I had put the pumpkin guts in the trash. I had put candy in a bowl near the door, and I had turned the circuit breaker back on.

I went back to my room, where my closet was. I picked out a long black and white gown that had geometric patterns all over it. The top was almost corset-like, but there were no ties like in those old black and white movies.

It was sleeveless, and there was a mask like for a masquerade ball that went with it.

Chris and I were going to a Halloween party at the BSAA h.q., and it would be my first time back there since the Wesker incident in Africa.

Sheva Alomar, Chris's current partner while I was in therapy, was also visiting and would be going, too.

Claire Redfield, Chris's younger sister, would be going as well. It would be a big family reunion.

I winced. That was what Wesker said when I'd attacked Chris back in Africa.

It hadn't been my fault; I wasn't in control of my actions at the time. Wesker had been controlling me with a drug that had been repeatedly injected into my chest from a device that Wesker had designed.

I liked Claire. She was nice, and worked for a company called TerraSave, an organization that protected human rights.

Sheva was alright, too, I guess. It wasn't the fact that she was from Africa that bothered me- and it didn't bother me, I assure you; I'm not racist or anything -it was the fact that she liked Chris a little more than she should.

And I tend to get a bit jealous of people that spend that much time with Chris without me being there.

I shook myself and stepped into the dress. It was then that I realized I couldn't reach the zipper. I sighed. I would have to wait for Chris to get home to zip up my gown…

So I walked into the living room and turned on the TV. What came on was a stupid show about a guy named George Lopez. I had never liked him; his humor was as crude as Barry's had been when I talked to him. But Barry and I had lost contact a while ago.

And now, why was I watching George Lopez's show? Because I needed a distraction, of course!

I couldn't get Wesker off my mind. He was everywhere I turned. He was my every thought. And it was eventually going to drive me to insanity. My eyebrows scrunched together.

I heard a key jingling in the lock and realized that Chris was back.

Good thing I'd cleaned up the mess that Wesker had made…

Chris opened the door and I looked up into his smiling face. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped to the floor when he saw me sitting on the couch in the dress.

"Chris?" I asked. "Can you zip up the back of my dress, please?"

Chris probably thought I was trying to kill him. Chris wasn't very shy around women, of that I was sure. And I knew he found my physically attractive. Hell, I thought he was hot. And I loved him. But I just wasn't ready for anything that serious yet.

"Uh," Chris muttered, shaking his head and putting his coat on the entry-way table. He also put an empty water bottle there. I was curious as to why he hadn't thrown it away, but didn't ask. "Yeah. Sure." Chris said, and motioned for me to turn around.

Chris's hand brushed against the exposed flesh of my bare back. I could feel goose-bumps rise on my skin. I shuddered. Chris found the zipper- which was resting on the small of my back -and pulled it up as quickly as he could.

The fabric was tight on my skin, but I didn't mind. I was used to clothes like that. I turned and kissed Chris lightly on the cheek.

"Thank you."

"No problem." Chris replied, taking in my appearance. His face changed into a half-joking, half-serious face. "So what are you all dressed up for?"

"Oh. Just a nice little Halloween party that this wonderful guy is taking me to." I grinned.

"Who is this wonderful guy?" Chris raised on of his eyebrows and smiled, knowing that I would beat him in his own game.

"Well, his first name starts with a C." I said, walking around the couch, only to sit on the back of it. "And his last name starts with an R."

Chris put his hands on my hips and drug me back over the couch. I went rigid. Chris ran his hands up my sides, effectively tickling me until I was breathless with laughter.

"Okay, okay, I give, I give!" I gasped out. Chris hugged me tightly for a moment, and then let me go. I kicked one of my legs up and used the momentum to flip upside-down until I was right-side up again.

I smoothed down my dress and my hair, which had both been messed up because of Chris, and I sniffed.

"Thanks a lot for zipping my dress up, Chris. Now, you need to hop in the shower and get de-stinkified before the party." I smacked him in the chest and walked off towards my bedroom.

"Wait a minute!" Chris called. I looked back at him. "_De-stinkified_?"

"It's my word, and I didn't give you permission to use it." I scolded him. I continued walking to my room and Chris went into the bathroom to use the shower.

I heard Chris singing in his baritone voice. I laughed.

From my underwear drawer, I picked my black garter that could hold two magnums and a switchblade or three. I shrugged and filled up the garter. I put on my heels. There was also a dark red cloak in my closet. I swung it onto my shoulders, realizing that I would need something to cover my shoulders, and breathed in deeply the scent of velvet.

The cloak made everything that much heavier, but it was soft and the clasp was real platinum.

Chris came out of the shower, dressed only in a towel and shooed me out of the room. He told me to go and 'put on some creepy makeup'. His words, not mine.

So I did up my makeup all scary, and I put my hair up into an intricate design. I was finally finished when Chris came into the bathroom, dressed like the guy from the Phantom of the Opera. The creepy dude with the half-mask. Chris had a smile on half of his face.

"Hey, you look fantastic." I said to Chris. He grinned wider and took my hand. He spun me around, so my dress flared out, and looked me over.

"Well, I honestly think that you look better than I do." Chris said and kissed my hand. I kissed the side of his face that wasn't covered in plastic.

"I beg to differ." I sighed and put my arm around his shoulders. "Let's go make an entrance."

Chris and I then left our home, leaving the porch light off so all the trick-or-treaters wouldn't egg our house if we didn't answer the door.

Chris gestured to his Porsche, and we both climbed in. I buckled my seatbelt and we started our journey to the party.

**Part IV**

All heads turned to stare at us when we arrived at the party. I grinned and, arm-in-arm with Chris, I walked down the stairs and greeted my friends.

Sheva and Claire were first. I embraced both of them, said hello, said 'happy Halloween,' and went on to greet other people who I knew.

But there was this odd feeling…like I was being watched…like someone was out there, with his or her eye on me. It was weird.

And then there was this guy standing in the crowd. He was wearing a dark suit and had his gaze fixed on me. I couldn't see his eyes because I was so far away, but I wondered what color they were. He wouldn't stop staring. And then, he vanished into thin air.

I walked over to the snack table and poured myself some punch. I glanced around to see Chris socializing with some blonde-haired man who had a small scar on his cheek. It was straight and shallow, merely superficial, but I had to admit it made the man look more masculine.

I recognized the man to be Leon Kennedy, a government agent who had rescued President Graham's daughter a year or two before Africa. He'd created a report depicting a parasite similar to Wesker's. Las Plagas versus Uroboros.

I turned away from the party and sipped my punch.

I felt down to my hip, where my gun was waiting. I sighed in relief. That prickling feeling was still on the back of my neck…someone was still watching me…

The sound of a million gunshots filled the room. Shattering glass and explosions reached my ears. I ducked under the snack table, and was soon hidden by the long black and orange tablecloth.

The gunfire stopped. _What the hell…?_

I reached under my dress and I pulled out the largest magnum that I had with me. I held it tightly as I peeked out from under the tablecloth.

_Shit_…

I thought that they'd discontinued the Nemesis Program!

But sure enough, there was a six-foot-tall, slimy, armed-to-the-hilt monster standing in the middle of a circle of bodies. I recognized Claire, Leon, and Sheva. The only person still standing was Chris, and he was grasping his right shoulder in pain.

Chris had drawn his submachine gun, which he'd slipped on under his cloak, and was aiming at the Nemesis. I could see the Nemesis calculating whether or not Chris was a threat. I saw its eyes flash red, and it raised its rocket launcher.

I knew it was futile, but I had to try and stop it. Didn't I?

"Stop!" I shrieked, throwing myself in front of Chris. I spread my arms wide and closed my eyes. I waited for the huge explosion that I most likely wouldn't save Chris from, but nothing came.

I opened my eyes and saw that the Nemesis had lowered both of his guns, the 'launcher and the machine gun. He was looking at me. I still had my magnum in my hand. I realized that his eyes zeroed in on my hand which was still grasping the magnum. I dropped it and the Nemesis looked back up at my face.

"Valentine." the Nemesis ground out. It sound like thunder, and I was suddenly thrown over its shoulder.

I cried out and struggled and squirmed. I'd already felt helpless one time in the day, I didn't need it again.

I tried everything, but the Nemesis's grip wouldn't be broken. Eventually, I lost most of my energy. I'd been moving for hours, and the Nemesis didn't even take notice to my struggling.

I hung limp on the Nemesis's shoulder. I was there for about three hours, until the Nemesis finally came to a stop. My ribs were sore, and I was exhausted.

"Ah. Miss Valentine. I see you decided to come to the party after all." Wesker's British accent invaded my pounding head.

I looked up and Wesker took me gently from the Nemesis's shoulder.

"Dismissed." Wesker said to him. The Nemesis nodded and disappeared through the one door I could see.

"L-let me go, Wesker. Please." I whimpered.

There was no escape this time. Wesker wasn't going to disappear into the night again. He wasn't going to let me go. A small tear escaped from the corner of my eye.

Wesker took something from his coat pocket. He showed it to me for a moment.

It was a syringe filled with a blue liquid. It was some kind of anesthetic. I felt my breathing hitch. I was right. I wasn't getting out of it this time.

"Not this time, Jill," Wesker whispered. He stuck the syringe into my neck and pressed the plunger down.

I felt the drowsiness spread through my veins.

"You are mine." Wesker said as I slipped into the blackness.

**A/N: Well, that's it. Anyway, yeah. There's that poll, and there's the option to continue the story if you want to. Just PM me to let me know if you wanna continue it. You don't have to ask for permission, I just wanna know who's writing what. ~M.M.**


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